


The Notebook

by RainiDayz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Attraction, Drawings, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lemon, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Professor Castiel, Recovery, Sketches, Smut, Student Dean, Whatever you want to call it, no wonder I'm failing, uh oh those aren't notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:39:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainiDayz/pseuds/RainiDayz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah and Allie fell in love and Noah wrote about her in a notebook.</p><p>Dean drew pictures of Castiel and porn stars in a notebook, and that might be the reason they fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Those Aren't Notes

_tick. tick. tick. tick._

_Jesus that sound was annoying..._ He glared at the clock, a scowl obviously present on his face as the tempo was interrupted with the irritating sound of other student's pencils scratching along their papers. He briefly glanced down at his own notes, all of which totaled to about three sentences of useful material, a bit more he had no idea what the hell he was writing about, and the rest of the page covered in sketches of various parts to a Chevy impala. Clearly he was getting no where. Looking back at the clock again a mere eight seconds had past and he stifled a groan. 3:14. _Why the hell did he sign up for a class that keeps him past 3:14?!_

He sighed heavily and looked back at his notes; the pages before all similar, just with more interesting sketches. He was going to fail. He knew it. He shouldn't have picked up a major that required him to take a _"Study of Dead Languages"_ course. What the hell was he going to do with that? What the hell was he going to do with a degree in Religious studies?! 

He sighed again and sat back in his chair, gazing around the room before landing his eyes on the instructor and taking a breath, then raising his hand, "Hey, uh.. Professor Novak?"

The professor in question was seated at his desk, examining an earlier classes work. One of his students had filled out their entire essay with examples of movies and books and how the related to the lesson he had given. However, such a paper was incredibly difficult to decipher considering he had never seen most of what the material was referencing. 

At the sound of his name being called, his eyes lingered on a particular line of text comparing something called a hobbit's characteristics to that of fallen angel. "Yes..."

He lingered on the 's' until his eyes arose, scanning around the room before finding the hand and falling on the failing student at the end of the row. "Mr. Winchester?"

Dean lowered his hand and dropped it on the desk, shrugging and shaking his head a bit. "I literally understand jack squat of what you're trying to teach this term."

"Jack squat, hm?" The professor moved to stand, making his way to the student's desk and raising a brow at the sight of the notebook before meeting his gaze.

Near instantly it is lost as Dean moved to cover up the drawings by crossing his arms over them, fumbling a bit over his words. "Yeah, uh, it's just I think I'm missing a lot of the point in these lessons, ya know? I'm not getting it.."

The Novak chuckles and shakes his head, laying a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit. "I can see that you don't understand this because you're obviously trying to pick up on your drawing skills. Those need some work too, by the way. Maybe if you, I don't know, paid more attention?"

Dean furrowed his brows a bit before frowning at the comment, sinking back in his seat and crossing his arms. He adverted his gaze before mumbling, "Yeah, well, if you didn't teach like you had a stick up your ass I'd be more interested in the lecture."

Novak hums and smiles, taking the opportunity to grab the notebook as he speaks. "Maybe I'll take that stick and use it to evaluate the power of your note-taking skills." He smirks a bit and stuffs the book under his arm, moving to return to his desk in stride.

Dean's eyes instantly widened. "H-hey, you can't j-" He cuts himself off and immediately hang his head, raking a hand through his hair and trying his best to stay low, mumbling curses.

A chuckle works its way out of the professor's throat as he takes a seat, setting the notebook over his own sets of paper and beginning to study the page. The notes that were written were decent, but his attention laid more in the drawings. The details of each were rough and scratched repetitively, trying to fix the previous mistake. He had a handle on the basics, but they weren't anything too impressive. He notes the crude signature of _Chevrolet_ at the bottom and huffs a small laugh, opening the book fully and flipping back a couple pages. When a set of automated headlights suddenly became a much fleshier pair his eyes widened. 

The occasional car part was scribbled lightly onto the page, but taking up most of the open space was filled by drawings of busty and quiet revealing women. He swallowed hard as his eyes scanned over the pages, skipping back a few pages to find others in similar circumstances, all either fully nude or just slightly covered in some suggestive way. The details on these particular images were a small improvement, obvious care taken at least where the curves were concerned.

He swallowed again and runs a hand over his mouth, nearly closing it before noticing the ink bleeding through the page from the other side. He paused a moment, furrowing his brows and recognizing the feature to be distinctly non-female. His fingers rub over the edge of the book a moment, thinking briefly before moving to turn back the page. The moment he did, his eyes widened.

Taking up three-fourths of the page was drawing of a him, leaning back as if the rings in the notebook would keep him supported. The body had more detail than the women before it, but the same care in marking them was evident. He was nearly halfway covered, however the dress shirt was drawn open, sagging slightly from his shoulders and his dress pants were hanging just enough to expose the top of butt, the front of them opened wildly. The ink he had seen bleeding through the page came from an area that made his face flare up deep red. It had been sketched at the tip of his member, clearly hardened from his pants and a half-opened book covering most of the generous length. 

He forced his eyes away from the image and laid a hand over it, taking a deep breath and trying to tame the color in his cheeks. He glanced down and quickly marked the page after it before closing the notebook and clearing his throat, looking up at the culprit. "Mr. Winchester, may I see you for a moment?"

Dean wished he could disappear. Perhaps if he tried hard enough he could sink far enough into his chair he could melt through it. He couldn't believe this was happening. _Hell, even a psychopath charging in here with a gun would be better than this!!_

He spoke lowly from his seat, keeping his head down, "Am I allowed to say _'no'_?"

"Unfortunately not."

He curses himself again and stands carefully, keeping his head low and stuffing his hands into his pockets all the while trying to avoid the professor's gaze.

Meanwhile Novak was keeping his eyes down, holding onto his pencil and keeping it stiffly between the pages. "I can see that you have a... _variety_ of drawings..."

Dean feels his face heating up quickly and shifts on his feet, wringing his hands and biting his tongue before speaking. "I'm talented like that."

"I can see..." The professor then took a breath and opened the notebook, moving to the page where a large-breasted blonde women laid on her arms, her head rolled back and her legs spread wide. He pointed to her, "Who is this, then?"

Dean looked and his eyes instantly widened, his head shooting up and he whispers in a panic, "You're seriously gonna make me do this?!" 

Novak doesn't respond and simply turns the page to the image of himself, his own face reddening slightly as he points to it, "And this..?"

The sketch artist's eyes widened further, his mouth opening to spit out a few frantic words before he sighs heavily and hangs his head in embarrassment, "Who the hell do you think it is??"

The professor keeps his head tilted down slightly, watching the student and lowering his voice, "I know who this is. I see them in the mirror every morning. I just want to know why you got so..."

In searching for a word his eyes glanced down at the image once more, the expression drawn on his face completely unfamiliar. The smirk he recognized, but the lidded eyes that were so carefully done he could see the incredible seductiveness of them... That wasn't a face he was capable of making.

" _...creative._ "

Dean sighed through gritted teeth and dragged his hands over his face and through his hair, looking at the professor and speaking in such a distressed way he nearly sounded like he was pleading, "What do you want from me?? I don't understand your class! I'm bombing all your tests, I don't turn in most of the work, and half the time I can't stay focused because even _you_ seem bored with the subject! You're the one thing that's actually _nice_ about this damn class. You look in the mirror, do you _not_ get that you're attractive??"

Novak sighs and moves to stand, closing the notebook and extending it to the student, "No, I don't get that I am attractive. Maybe if you would ask me questions instead if drawing pictures of things that belong in a _sketch_ book, then you'd get it a little more. I'm not necessarily bored of the subject, I'm bored of having to teach a class that doesn't give a damn about what I have to say."

He tries not to get worked up and moves a hand to rub over the bridge of his nose, suppressing another sigh and dropping it before looking the other, "I bet you don't even care about what I'm saying... Look, I'll help you; tutor you or something. Stay after today and I'll try to help you. Does that sound alright, _Van Gogh?_ ”

Dean flushes heavily once more and takes the notebook, clenching at the binds of it down by his side. He lowers his head and speaks quietly, "Yes sir..."

"Good. You may take your seat." The professor then tries to give him a reassuring clap on the back, almost instantly regretting it before sitting back down and trying to focus on the task of figuring out what a hobbit is.

The student flinches slightly at the contact, mainly in surprise before hurrying back to his desk and slinking into his chair. He laid his notebook flat on his desk before dropping his hands to his sides and wringing them anxiously. 

First of all, he knew he was dead. He knew it the moment professor Novak picked up that damn thing. Couldn't he have just told him to leave for mouthing off? Yeah, sure, that would have been fine. He'd be right back in failing the next day. But now he was going to be kicked out of college. _Fan-freakin’-tasic._

He should have just kept his damn mouth shut. He should have just flunked the class and accepted the fact he was never going to get through school. He was already a year behind and the classes were only going to get more involved from here. 

He shook his head at himself in irritation and scoffed at himself internally, moving forward to pick up the pen off his desk and fiddle with it in his fingers. Why the hell did everyone have to treat him like he was some kind of punk? He actually did pay attention when he could, and he did care about this class for the most part. The only problem was professor sexy over there's lessons were usually too much for him to take in one tone. Sure, he had a nice voice, but if Dean didn't understand what the hell he was talking about he sure as hell would rather imagine him in a different scenario.

And what the hell kind of comment was that earlier? _'I bet you don't even care about what I'm saying.'_? What the hell does that mean? Obviously he was trying to pay attention. Which frankly is a little difficult when you’re humiliated, but he still did it! In fact for the rest of the class Dean sat with his head tilted down, eyes focused on his pen as he thought on the professor’s words.

Meanwhile Novak sat back in his desk, finally finished cracking the code and getting the basic understanding of what one of his more exuberant students wrote, thanks to google. It ended up being a fairly interesting paper once he understood, however he politely wrote, _‘Ms. Bradbury, please refrain from comparing religious symbols to pop culture.’_

He then easily made it through a couple more papers, checking them off and entering the grades before glancing up and checking the clock. 4:13. He hummed and sat back in his seat, running his hands over his face before speaking up and dismissing the class early. As the students began to file out, he focused his gaze on the student at the end of the row, who only glanced up briefly as the room became empty before ducking his head once more. He then sighed and moved to stand, walking past a desk near a large cabinet and gesturing to it. “Mr. Winchester, sit here please.”

Dean glanced up carefully and noticed the desk, biting his tongue before moving to stand and heading over to it. Instantly he laid down his things and slunk down into his seat, watching out of the corner of his eye.

Novak pulled out his keys and undid the lock on the one of the doors, pulling them open to reveal several shelves of text books. He nearly groaned, they were completely disorganized.

Dean almost groaned too, sinking lower and frowning until the professor leaned over, bending down to pick out a few books. Suddenly he raised a brow and found himself sitting up a bit straighter.

Novak grunted a bit under the weight of three thick books, all clearly aged and frayed somehow. He kicks the doors shut before turning and moving back to the student’s desk, dropping them with a slight exhale before laying his arm over the top of them, “God, those are heavy. Anyways, I want you to read one of these and write an essay on what you've read by the end of the term, which is in...” 

He pulled out his phone, pulling up the calendar before raising a brow and smirking slightly, then turning back to the artist. “One month. Exactly. Think you can manage?”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he glanced over the books, scoffing before staring up at the instructor, “In a _month_?? It would take me an entire semester to read one of those things, at least! What did I do??”

“Let me see, you've failed nearly every test, you don't pay attention, you don't do classwork, and you draw pictures of me in your notebook that don't really do me justice.” At the look he was receiving the professor crossed his arms, returning a sterner one. “So I think that leaves me a little leeway to have a grudge.”

Again Dean scoffed, furrowing his brows further, “I fail your tests because I can't read the languages, only speak them. Today you lectured the beginning bit of the second chapter in a third book which started getting into the key elements of Enochian, _which I still don’t get_ , I don't understand what the classwork is asking me to do, and my drawings might suck but that girl you pointed to earlier was Varishka Malkolov and Misa Enure was on the same page, and they're _porn stars_!”

He huffed and crossed his arms, sinking back in his seat once more and pouting, “Yeah, I get bored and I’m a pain in the ass, but it’s pretty freakin’ frustrating _knowing_ what’s being said in conversation and failing the tests because _I can’t read it!!_ ”

“Look up languages, not porn, Dean.” The professor flicked the side of his head before moving back to his own desk. 

The student flinched again and followed the man with a questioning look before glaring off in another direction. He didn’t bother turning his head back when he heard a chair being dragged his way, coming to a stop close by.

Novak pulled his chair up beside the desk, turning it the opposite way before straddling and sitting in it backwards comfortably. He then crossed his arms over the top of it and looked to the student, “Would you like my help?”

Dean held his glare a moment longer, holding his own grudge before slowly deteriorating and going soft. He sighed and frowned heavily, hanging his head in defeat, “Yes...”

This reaction got a small chuckle out of the professor, who then smirked and reached forward, touseling the artist’s hair a bit and messing it up. “Don’t look so sad. I’ll make it better than my lectures.”

The student’s eyes widened and he gave of a sound of surprise, ducking his head down a bit more before looking up and pushing his hair back, “Okay... where do I start..?”

Novak hummed and thought a moment, leaning back and stretching his arms over his head. “Well, you said you can speak the language's but not read them. What's the problem with that?”

Dean’s train of thought was immediately derailed when a bit of skin caught his eye. His gaze was suddenly shifted down as the other stretched, the white shirt riding up a bit and exposing the area just above his pants. He instantly made the mental note that his hip bones were definitely protruding and he’d make damn sure to add that detail next time.

“The, uh, wording... the lettering is different, so I always get confused by it...”

Novak sat back up with a groan, Dean’s eyes moving off of him during the process. He hums and retrieves a yellow pencil from his pocket, _‘good morning’_ written clearly in Latin by the eraser. He studied it a moment before holding it out, “What does this say?”

The student stares at the pencil a moment, taking it apprehensively and looking it over. First thing he noticed was the color, his thumb tracing over the two phrases printed in black ink. He sighs and offers it back, “I know what this says. The first word looks like the way an expression typically should be written, and it’s yellow. It says ‘good morning’ but I didn’t read it.”

The professor takes it back and tilts his head slightly, “You didn't read it? Then how do you know what it says?” 

Dean furrows his brows and looks at him obviously, shrugging a bit, “It's sunshine yellow. And it's yours. And you always walk in and say, _'Good morning class'_. It’s common sense.”

Novak raises a brow and smiles slight, humming before tapping the pencil on the desk, “You remember that stuff, but not my class work assignments, or the test material?”

The student sighs and hangs his head, “I do actually pay attention sometimes... I listened to what you were saying earlier.”

“Oh, is that so?” The professor raised his pencil under the Winchester’s chin, surprising him and lifting his head to eye level, “What was I saying earlier?”

Dean’s eyes widened and he swallowed, flushing slightly and trying to recall, “You, uh.. y-you said you don't get how you're attractive. And you told me if I asked questions instead of drawing in my notebook, I might get it better... You said you weren't necessarily bored with what you teach, but you were tired of teaching kids who didn't care. Then you said... ’I bet you don't even care about what I'm saying.’... You offered to tutor me, asked me to stay after class, and called me Van Gogh as an insult. Right..?”

Novak chuckles a bit, leaning in and smirking slightly, “You're more attentive than you put off. Why don't you listen like that during my lectures, other than the fact that your mind wanders to the anatomy of myself and foreign erotica actresses?”

Dean’s eyes widened further and he sat utterly still. “B-because part of it genuinely is misunderstanding. I-I get bored too. I don't mean to be such a pain in the ass, I really don't. I just- my life _sucks_ and I don't got a lot going for me... My brother got a full ride to _Stanford_ and I'm struggling just to stay here. Please don't get me thrown out for those pictures. I swear to god I'll burn them and never do it again. I'll even drop your class even if you want. I'll choose a different major. Just-...”

He paused a moment, realizing he was getting no where fast. He closed his mouth and studied his professor a moment; the man’s brows were furrowed in concern and his lips turned into a frown. It had it’s own kind of appeal, but not while his face was plastered with sadness for him. Dean recognized that sadness: Pity.

He sighed and shoved the pencil out from beneath his chin, hanging his head miserably and darkening his voice, “I am _worthless_... in _any_ department. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, I just figured... _‘follow the family’_...”.

Novak’s frown furthered and he lowered his pencil, softening his voice a bit, “Dean, I wasn't going to let anyone know about those drawings. I asked you here because I want to help you. I honestly do. You aren't a pain in the ass, you're actually quite the opposite. I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I don't want you to drop my class or change your major...”

There was no change in the Winchester’s demeanor, so he carefully hooks a finger under the younger man’s chin, raising his head again and looking at him compassionately, “I want to help you. Please let me do so...”

Dean holds his frown and grits his teeth, “I am bombing your class... I’ve flunked pretty much everything you’ve ever given me.”

He huffs a dead laugh and raises his head on his own, shaking it in exasperation, “I drew erotic pictures of you the same way I was drawing _porn stars!!_ How am I _not_ the biggest asshole you've ever had the burden of trying to teach?!”

“Trust me, I’ve had worse.” The professor leaves his hand in air a moment before shaking his head and dropping it to the desk, “I am not as attractive as you have built me up to be. I really don't think you're an asshole, and you can make up your work and bring your grade up. Oh, and you aren't worthless. I find you.. Interesting.” 

Another dead laugh escapes Dean’s throat, “ _Interesting?_ How the hell am I interesting? I'm riding my second year in the same grade with absolutely _nothing_ being accomplished and whether or not you think it, I think you're-”

He cuts himself off, biting his tongue before leaning in and speaking seriously in a low tone, “Look, I don't know where your self esteem issues come from, but when you were bending down to grab _these,_ ” He knocks a knuckle on the stack of books, “I didn’t sit up to look at the titles.”

For the first time during their session Novak’s eyes widened, the comment causing him to blush slightly and clear his throat, “ _Well_ , uh.. um...” He elected to look at the wall and Dean scoffed.

“Yeah,” He sits back in his seat more easily this time, though still crossing his arms and averting his gaze, “I know it sucks to be stuck with me.”

“It doesn't suck, I just-... I didn't expect that...” He thinks a moment and scratches his neck, deciding to push it aside and turning back to the Winchester to speak, then instantly frowning, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just slowly throwing my life away.” His tone was solid throughout the statement, looking up a moment later and continuing normally, “What else do you want me to do?”

“I don't want you to continue thinking like that, to begin with.” Novak pulled his chair up and scooted a little closer, laying his arms on the desk and leaning in a bit. He studied the student’s face a moment before speaking in concern, “Why do you think you’re throwing your life away?”

Dean stared back at him a moment, unwilling to speak. The answer should be obvious. After a minute he sighed and shook his head, glancing away again and setting his jaw before speaking, “ _Every single opportunity_ I've ever had to make something of my life, I’ve went and ruined it. I practically raised my little brother because our dad was never around, so there goes the threat that tells you you shouldn't be drinking at sixteen. All I did in high school was party and sleep around because I didn't care, and I didn't understand half the shit I was being taught so I was disruptive. Now look at me; my little brother is in Stanford while I'm trying to pick up the shattered pieces of my GPA and trying not to sexually harass my professor anymore than I already have.”

Novak looks to him sadly, letting the other rest from his rant a moment before speaking gently, “Dean... I am so sorry you feel pressured like this. But don't compare yourself to your brother, you're both totally different people that have a different view on everything. As for the partying and sleeping around, like you said, you dad wasn't really there to tell you that was a crappy thing to do. You can always raise up your GPA, but you're going to have to work hard. And you didn't sexually harass me, I've been harassed and this is the farthest thing from it.”

The student merely stares at him and furrows his brows, “You take badly drawn pornographics of you as a _compliment_?”

“Not necessarily, but it isn't the worst thing that has happened to me.” He shrugged.

Dean frowns slightly and uncrosses his arms, sitting forward a bit, “That's, not a good thing to hear... Are you alright? I mean, I get you're okay and all physically, but are _you_ alright..?”

The professor shakes his head easily, “Nope.”

Deans frown further and sits close in concern, biting his tongue a bit, “What happened?”  
Novak sighed and lowered his gaze a moment, looking back up to the Winchester with a slight smirk, “Well, when I was in high school, I was at this party. I’m sure you’re familiar with the scene...”

He paused a moment, seeing no amusement in the other’s features as he sat still and listened attentively. Novak sighed again and continued, his grin fading quickly, “And... this guy was staring at me across the room, and I was very, _very_ intoxicated. I decided to walk over and talk to him and one thing led to another... He dragged me out to his car and tried to undress me, and I was fighting the most pitiful fight you can possibly imagine. I tried and tried, but... He ended up... Sleeping with me without consent, to not have to say the "R" word... Then he, tossed me out of his car and told me that I was a slut with a shitty body. And that was the end of it.”

By the time he had finished his gaze had faltered some from his students. He glanced back up, trying to put on a small smile and only being met with Dean’s wide eyes and heavy frown.

“That’s... That’s not _okay!!_ ” Dean scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through his hair and gazing around before focusing back on Novak. The moment their eyes met he began to get worked up, standing and raising his voice in anger,

“That's terrible! Something should have happened to that guy! He should have been arrested for years for pulling a stunt like that! You wouldn't do anything to deserve that! Sure you were drunk, but that guy was beyond a dick, he’s a criminal! I mean, some jackass attacks you while you were drunk for saying ‘hi’ and then says you have a shitty body?! Fuck that guy!!”

He stopped his rant at the sound of a slight chuckle, his brows furrowing as he looked to the man in front of him in confusion. The professor simply shook his head, explaining after a moment.

“He's right, though. I definitely don't look like some of the guys that are walking around the planet right now. I'm just... Plain old Castiel Novak.” He shrugs, running a hand through his hair before looking back to the Winchester, “I’m nothing really special.”

Dean kept his brows furrowed and frowned heavily, thinking a moment before immediately moving to open his notebook and flip through it, shoving it at the professor. “ _Nothing special?_ Castiel, right? Take a look at this again. How many drawings of men do you think are in this notebook, huh??”

Castiel lowered his head a bit and averted his gaze, feeling heat instantly creeping up over his face from the remembrance. “Dean...”

“ _Look_ , Cas!!” Dean wasn’t backing down; he flipped through the pages, pointing out the men as they came. “There’s four! There are eleven of women, but four of men. They’re usually different girls, but there’s two of Misa, two of Varishka, and _four_ of you!!” 

“ _Dean..._ ”

“Why do you think I do it?! Yeah, you don’t look like some of the guys walking around on this planet, you’re so much _better!_ You’re attractive as hell, Cas! Just because some assclown said-” 

“Those aren’t pictures of _me_ , Dean!” Castiel slammed his hand on the desk, snapping and looking up with a glare, silencing the Winchester. “I’m not the way you put on me on that paper and I never could be. I don’t even know how you began to perceive me like this, but that’s not why we’re here. _I’m_ here to ensure you’re not sitting in my class again next semester riding your _third_ year in the same grade level. Now _sit down_.”

Dean stared at him in shock a moment, his brain reeling over the interruption and slowly beginning to process it. As he went over it he inevitably grit his teeth, balling his firsts at his sides. Eventually he frowned and slowly sat back in his seat, laying his arms over the table glowering at the man before him.

“Thank you...” Novak sighed and his eyes flickered to the notebook, a drawing of him he hadn’t seen taking up half the page. It depicted him in a bed-like setting, sitting up on one of his elbows while the other hand was hidden beneath the sheet. The obviousness of what he appeared to be doing caused his features to heat up with irritation and embarrassment. 

He sighed and looked aside, “Could you please turn that to another page?”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean replied sarcastically, moving the notebook and opening it to a page with a similar image, only this time without a sheet. “How’s that?”

Castiel looked up briefly before dropping a hand on the desk and instantly looking away, moving the other over his mouth and trying to calm himself. “Dean, put it away.”

“Keep it.” He uncrossed his arms and moved for the notebook again, closing it and pushing it towards the other man. “Call it a gift.”

“You need to take notes, Dean.”

“I’ll get another notebook.”

Castiel glanced up at the Winchester and gave him a firm stare, not seeing any change in the other’s seriousness. He fumed and huffed out a _‘Fine.’_ , then snatched up the notebook and set it closer to himself on the edge of the desk before shoving the massive pile of already written books to the troublesome male. “Pick one.”

The Winchester scoffed and gave him a look, “You’re still serious about that?!”

“Yes, Dean.” The professor hissed at him, keeping a fierce glare on the student, “Be glad I’m not requiring you to read all three and write me a comprehensive analysis on there correlations and differences.”

For a moment Dean sat completely stunned, not understanding what he did that was so wrong before returning Novak with a dirty look and standing abruptly. He plucked the top book off the stack, not bothering to read the title and walking around the other’s chair.

The professor remained seated, keeping his eyes on the student as he past, “No more questions then, I presume?”

“One, actually.” Dean turned, tilting his head slightly and faking a questioning look, “Did you know you’ve got a fantastic ass?”

Novak’s eyes narrowed and he growled in return, “Leave my classroom, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean extended his arms and shrugged a bit, trying to keep the book up in the process as he walked backwards towards the door, “Already on my way. You’ve got nice eyes too. Never seen them up close before. I appreciate the warm, fuzzy feeling I got from the daggers.”

Castiel growled again in frustration and stood, raising his voice, “Get the hell out of my room, Dean!”

“I’m going,” He assured, now raising his hands in more of a defense position, balancing the book in his palm and stopping at the door. “Thanks for all the help, Cas.” 

With that he shoved the door open roughly, storming out towards his dorm. Castiel remained in place in his room and groaned before taking a deep breath. He pushed his hands over his face and tried to relax, which was difficult when he was practically seething. 

_The nerve of that kid..._ He let out a slow sigh and raked his hands through his hair. How dare a student try to speak to him like that. Especially on a subject matter so... _personal_. He knew Dean was a good kid, not much younger than himself, but that doesn’t excuse that type of behavior. Next time, he wouldn’t stand for it. 

He glanced down at the desk and sighed again, grabbing the notebook and setting it on top of the other two text books before picking up the stack. Skillfully he nudged the bottom of the cabinet door open with his foot, setting the heavy weights back randomly on the easiest shelf he could reach. At some point he’d definitely have to get it organized. When he drew back he closed it and retrieved his keys, picking out the right one and moving to lock the cabinet when he paused.

He was fully aware the notebook was still inside there. He hardly ever opened this old thing so it’d be perfectly safe out of sight and mind alike. No one would ever know about it and he would never have to worry being the only one who held the keys. Or he could simply throw it out now. He had no purpose for it; the images in the note book he knew were just speculative, imaginative fantasies that were unsubstantiated and completely inconceivable.

However Dean had said there were a total of four drawing of him in that notebook. He had only seen three.

He bit into his lip a moment, glancing around and making sure the doors to his room were still closed. Slowly he opened the the cabinet, peaking inside and eyeing the book a moment. He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be curious enough to want to look. But before he knew it he had the notebook in his hand, holding it tight while his other moved to quickly lock up the rest of the books. _Well that’s a decision made._

He then moved to his desk solicitously, tucking the book under his arm and not looking at it until he laid it flat across the surface. Even there he paused again, hovering his hand over the cover a moment before opening it gingerly and beginning to search. He stumbled across the bed scene first, studying the details a bit more this time and feeling heat rise to his cheeks before continuing on, finding it the next on soon after it. He was nearly about to give up on the book when he came across it, his whole body freezing the moment he did.

There he was sprawled out across the bottom half of the page, sitting with his back against the edge of the paper. He head was tilted back, the eyes drawn closed and the hand furthest away pushing back his hair. His other he found yet again drawn around his length, only this time the image appeared even more graphic. He was positioned in such a way to be slouching, but his nearest hip was shifted up off the ground, again exposing his backside. The features of his face were etched on in a such an unfamiliar fashion; his mouth hanging open but looking absolutely at bliss. The reason was all captured down at his hand, where a scribbled substance seemed to be shooting profusely from his length.

Castiel’s face was burning at this point from mortification, but his eyes continuously scanned over the image for several moments. Suddenly he became unfrozen and snapped the book shut, gathering his things beneath it and stuffing it all into his bag before immediately heading out of his classroom. Though he dreaded it, he would certainly be having another talk with Dean Winchester.


	2. Looking Things Over

Dean was furious as he stomped back to his dorm. He unknowing kept a subtle glare on his face and his arm weighted down by the heavy book he had been forced to receive. He didn’t care what it was. He knew if he already didn’t understand the material he was being taught day by day there was no way in hell he was going to finish this monstrous tome. 

_What the hell was wrong with that guy?_ Sure, he got that finding a notebook to be filled with erotic pictures of yourself was kinda bad, but why the hell did he blow up like that? It’s not like they were death sentences or anything worse! They were _flattery;_ whether Cas saw it in himself or not, he was incredibly good looking.

Dean remembered day one in his class: he was slouched in his seat, texting his brother when the professor finally tromped quickly into the room. He gave a brief, almost formal sounding apology, and the bass of his voice was definitely a surprise. When he finally settled his things at desk, he stood and began his introductions. Dean raises a brow and glanced him over, deciding then he was an handsome guy, but took no further actions.

When he began losing focus in the class, he began the useless drawings on a whim. He knew his car needed a new tail light (thanks to some jackass on campus who decided he needed one too), so that was what he sketched. He eventually moved to other parts, knowing several and being good at getting them all to work properly. It wasn’t too long after that he got the idea for a more interesting image.

They started when his roommate had been out one day; it was one of the few times his schedule allowed him to be at home without any sort of interruption, so it wasn’t hard to guess what he was willing to do with his time. He had laid off the sex for awhile because even though the school was filled with some fairly hot chicks, with how much everyone seemed to be getting around, he didn’t want to take the risk of getting sick because of them. It wasn’t any kind of fun the first time.

After treating himself to a bit of fun, he got himself cleaned up and headed to professor Novak’s class. The lecture had began the same way as usual; He’d say something pertaining to the previous lecture, comment on one or two things Dean actually understood, and then he was lost. He glanced down at his paper, annoyed by the space of it and started drawing. It was spontaneous thought that prompted him to begin sketching a scene that had played out on his laptop earlier; it was by no means perfect and he had scratched it out several times, but eventually he began to get some of the details right. Over time he had gotten better with it, improving some of the balance and natural curve of the bodies. But honestly, after doing it several times he had started to become bored.

Dean had always kept to himself about his preferences in bed partners. He had only ever slept around with women, but his taste had always been known to himself to wander. He had typically ignored any sexual thoughts he had had concerning guys and usually stifled them by finding an interesting girl instead. But he wasn’t an idiot. He knew he found himself attracted to Novak. There were just general things about the way he presented himself that made him attractive; The shape of his body suggested he was at least fit and not overly muscular, his hair always seemed like he had just gotten out of bed recently, and his voice was so deep and resonating even in the monotone he spoke in for his lectures. He began to think of how nice that sound would be in a low moan and suddenly he was picking up his pen again.

Now as he marched up to his dorm he regretted doing any of it entirely. He shoved the door open and instantly moved to drop the heavy book onto his bunk, startling his roommate in the process.

“Dean?” She blinked up at him, furrowing her brows in concern and turning her attention from her laptop. “You’re late getting back. What’s wrong? Something not right with Sam?”

He sighed in irritation and looked to her quickly, “No, Charlie, Novak saw the notebook.”

Her eyes widened and she turned around in her seat, “He saw _the notebook?!_ What happened?? ...Was it at least a nice picture of Varishka..?”

Dean scoffed as it were the least of his problems, “Yeah, he saw Varishka. And Misa. Probably Natasha and Annie and oh yeah, he saw himself! He took it and pointed himself out!”

Charlie’s eyes stayed wide, both surprised and concern, “Uh, alright. Well what else happened? Did you get thrown out of the class? Is he going to get you thrown out of the college?”

“He might as well! I was giving him compliments and he was threatening me with this shit!” He lifted the book off his bed and threw it onto hers, immediately bouncing off the mattress and plummeting to the floor with a loud thud, emphasizing his point.

She furrows her brows a bit and tilts her head, studying it a moment and trying to read the title from its awkward position, “Angeli explicatur.. per voluntatem Dei...” Her brows furrowed further as she looked back to her heated friend. “Angels explained by the will of God?”

Dean instantly groaned, running his hands over his face and pacing pointlessly around the room. “ _Angels._ Of course it’s a book on fucking angels and their Enochian crap. I can't even understand that shit in _words_ , how the hell does he expect me to read that?!”

Charlie sighs and moves to lean down, picking up the book and straightening it in her hands before flipping through a few pages. “It’s not that bad Dean... And I’m sure if he’s willing to give you something like this, he has faith in you. Just ask him for help on the stuff you don’t understand.”

“That’s what I did _just now!_ He made me stay after class to help me, told me to read his stupid pencil, I told him I couldn’t and that my life was in the toilet and it all went downhill from there.”

“So, how did reading a pencil go to your life being in the toilet?”

“I don’t know!!” Dean threw his hands up in the air in exasperation before sighing and pushing one through his hair, “I mean, yeah, I get he got hit hard before, but it wasn’t like that!”

Charlie stared at him a moment, furrowing her brows and shaking her head, “Okay, wait. You lost me. How did he get hit hard?”

He turned and faced her again, looking distraught and speaking solemnly, “He got raped in high school. Some... some _douchebag_ dragged him into a car and then tossed him out and told him he had a shitty body.”

The nerd then continued to gape at him, huffing a quiet laugh of disbelief. He furrowed his brows and watched her, their eyes locking until he finally decided to break it. “ _What?_ What is it? Why are you staring at me??”

“Dean... do you seriously not get why he got upset with you?”

The Winchester gave her clueless look, instantly shaking his head and admitting “No, I don’t.”

Charlie sighed and softened her gaze a bit, “Dean, how long do you think its been since that’s happened to him?”

He shrugged a bit. “I don’t know, got to be seven or eight years, more or less.”

“And in all that time don’t you think he’s probably been hit on?”

Again he shrugged, “Of course.”

“Don’t you also think he’s probably ignored it or tried to get away from it somehow? To avoid having to think about what happened seven or eight years ago?”

Straightway it all began to make sense; Dean’s offense coming down as he sighed heavily and lowered his head, pushing his hand through his hair once more. “I couldn’t stop talking about it...”

“That’s why he got upset with you.” Charlie continued explaining, keeping her eyes on him. “He don’t like getting complimented on his appearance. And he’s probably not into having any kind of sex. Ever. That sort of stuff... It sticks with you and it’s hard to get past. Did he tell you what happened afterwards..?”

He shook his head and moved to sit back on his bunk, crossing his hands over his knees. “No... I didn’t give him the chance...”

The redhead frowned at the state of her troubled friend, moving to stand and using both hands to hold out the book to him. “You should go to him tomorrow. Apologize. If he hated you, he’d have you clearing out your things by now. He’ll accept it.”

Dean glanced up slightly at her before lowering his gaze to the book. He sighed again and took it carefully, muttering a small thanks and letting it fall into his lap. How could he have been such an idiot? Of course the guy didn’t like compliments on his appearance. It was because he had such a nice body that such a terrible thing happened to him. And now he was making it worse by saying things like _‘Did you know you’ve got a fantastic ass?’_ Great, way to persecute him, Dean.

He grit his teeth and glared at himself internally, earning more of Charlie’s concern. She bit her tongue and thought a moment before speaking up, “..Do you wanna watch Lord of the Rings?”

Dean sighed and looked up at her. He knew what she was trying to do. She hated seeing him upset, but she didn’t know quiet what to do. She always just tried to find some way to pull him out of it. 

He gave a small smile in appreciation and nodded, setting the book by his side. “Yeah, we can do that.”

She smiled back brightly and moved to sit back in front of her laptop, setting it up as she began to talk about how surprisingly convenient it was to have downloaded movies saved to her desktop. Dean listened some to her and during the movie but his mind remained on everything that had happened between him and Novak. At some point his eyes drifted back over to the cover of the large book beside him, his teeth coming down on his tongue a moment later. He definitely needed to fix this.

...

When Castiel had arrived home he immediately tossed his keys into the dish and dropped his bag on the table by the door, deciding to ignore it completely. He needed to get his mind off of the notebook so he immediately headed into the kitchen and began preparing himself an early dinner. Prepare, of course, simply meant making a grilled cheese sandwich where one side was a little burnt. As well as the corner of a nearby dish cloth. He had never been one to be considered handy in the kitchen. He knew next to nothing about any kind of food outside the realm of various sandwiches and ramen noodles. However the area that made up his kitchen in his small apartment would hardly allow anything more if he knew.

He had owned said apartment for nearly eight years now, and nearly everything in it was outdated. There was little decor to be found and all of the furniture was incredibly plain, even his dishes and mugs were all the same exact shade of cream. Everything was cramped; the four-hundred-and-sixty foot home not nearly large enough to be considered comfortable, but he had become accustomed to the space he had. 

He had gotten it immediately after his first semester of college, finding it much less stressful on himself to be off campus and make the commute than to share a room with strangers. He could barely afford the monthly payment for it, but never had he even considered looking for a roommate. He was circumspect of people, to say the least, and thus, struggling to make ends meet alone was better than finding some place people and taking chances with someone he didn’t know.

After eating his small meal and washing the few dishes required to make it, Castiel then occupied himself by straightening up his apartment a bit; which unfortunately for him never took long by how well he usually kept it. When the thoughts of earlier that day started to return, he opted it was time to start focusing on some of his work. He moved back to the table and reached for his bag, stopping short when he thought about the notebook. He knew he was going to need to see it. There was no way to avoid the thing if it were settled crookedly with his things. 

He eventually grabbed it, propping it upright to sort through it and retrieve the essays he had been reviewing earlier. In his earlier overwrought state, he had completely jumbled them all up. He sighed at the clutter and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose a moment, collecting himself before seizing everything in the messenger and moving over to his couch, scattering it out over his coffee table. Immediately he picked up the notebook and dropped it onto the floor, shoving it beneath with his foot before beginning to organize his papers. Luckily, he had managed to keep himself on track long enough to complete about two hours worth of work. However during that two hour period he had only managed to grade and critique three papers, due to his mind trying to distract him. 

At eigtht o’clock he decided to call it quits, rubbing his hands over his face and stretching back in his seat with an exhausted groan. He exhaled heavily as he relaxed his muscles and rolled his shoulders, checking to make sure the papers were properly organized before standing and moving to return them to his bag. When he glanced back at the couch, he paused a moment. He certainly hadn’t forgotten about the notebook. In fact the more he thought about it, the more he began to realize just tyrannical Dean must have seen him as because of it.

Carefully he approached the object and got down on his knees, scanning beneath the couch and reaching out to retrieve the provoking article. He stared at the cover a moment, moving to stand back on his feet and heading towards the bedroom. 

_How was this happening to him?_ How did one of his students, Dean Winchester, more shockingly, ever begin viewing him in such a seductive way? He wasn’t anything at all like how he was portrayed; He never showed any skin above his wrists or beneath his shirt collar, he had never lidded his eyes in such a sultry fashion, and he certainly never engaged in any of the actives he was depicted as doing. 

Shaking his head he tossed the pad of paper onto his bed, moving into the bathroom and turning on the shower before ridding himself of his clothing and stepping inside.  
Clearly Dean must have mistaken him somehow. He wasn’t an attractive person. Sure, he had been given compliments on his appearance here and there, but he never took any of them seriously. He wasn’t the kind of guy who wanted to attract any sort of attention to himself. He never did anything particular to his hair, he wore plain clothing, drove a normal car and worked an average job. There wasn’t anything special about him.

But to see himself scrawled on a page like that; even if the drawings themselves needed some work, seeing the kind of emotion that somehow managed to appear as if it came from him was unsettling to say the least. The way Dean was able to draw out his eyes... he never thought he could look so _aroused_. 

It had been years since he had even remotely felt like that. Any notion of it that ever sprang into his head was quickly shut down and shoved aside. He told himself he no longer had any interests of anything of that kind for anyone. If nothing else, he wasn’t sure if he’d be comfortable being to be close enough to someone else who would want to. He never approached anyone or tried to find a date for anything, but he had occasionally thought perhaps it would be nice to share a bed with someone solely to sleep. 

He could see how someone who wasn’t interested in sex could make a nice companion, however he knew surely no one like that existed. And even if by some thin stoke of luck he miraculously found someone who did, they certainly wouldn’t be interested in him. He was just everyday, ordinary Castiel. Nothing more. No one could be interested in that.

As he finished rinsing out his hair he turned off the spray of water above him, rubbing his hands over his face once more before opening the curtain and stepping out to dry. Using his towel he cleared the fog from the certain of the mirror, studying his expression in the mirror. It was the same as it was every time he looked; his brows furrowed slightly, always making him look marginally confused, his lips turned in a small frown and his eyes overshadowed, making them appear dark.

Just to be sure he took his towel once more and wiped off the rest of the mirror, taking a step back and looking himself over as he tied it around his waist. He wasn’t muscled in any superior way, nor was he perfectly lean. He was a normal size for his age, but the way he was built made him look older. His skin wasn’t exceptionally tanned or soft to the touch, and he didn’t look like he was sculpted marble. Glancing up he noticed his head was now tilted a bit, as he always seemed to do out of habit, making him look even more confused.

He wasn’t attractive. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Dean had completely misplaced any hopes he may have had. Those drawings may have had features of his appearance, but they definitely weren’t him. 

Castiel sighed out through his nostrils and gathered his clothes from earlier, heading into the bedroom and throwing them into the hamper. He went to his tiny closet and retrieved his evening clothes, ridding himself of the towel and discarding it as well. When he was fully dressed in sleep pants and a long sleeve shirt, he moved back to the bathroom to brush his teeth before switching out the lights. 

As he climbed into bed, he felt something not unfamiliar slide across the cover and he stopped. For a moment he pondered simply kicking it off, but he doubted he would get much sleep if he did so. He thought a moment, hesitantly reaching forward to grab the book and turning on the nearby lamp before flipping it open. Earlier he had been so stunned and embarrassed by it he had barely been able to process it. Now that it was possessing his thought, he theorized if he was able to manage looking at it rationally he’d be able to get some sleep.

He was able to take more notice of the women this time, seeing how their shapes seemed to improve further along in the pages. He never found much attraction in females. He knew that most had something about them that made them attractive in some way, but he never had felt any excitement he once did with males. 

When he came to the first drawing of himself he froze; immediately he felt his cheeks becoming red and he took a deep breath, sighing it out quietly. It was a bit frightening to know that this was the most modest one, but still he attempted to keep himself equable. The most absorbing part of it was Dean hadn’t sketched any pattern onto the sheet, he appeared to have intentionally left it white. Whether this choice was made for artist reasons or for convince, Castiel did not know. However the sheets he was laying on then were extremely similar, making it as if he could create the scene if he so chose.

Naturally he shook his head at such a thought and turned the page, continuing on to other women and soon coming across himself again. He continued to take even breaths and keep his face at a steady flushed color as opposed to how he had been before. After awhile he was able to gently close it, setting it aside on his night table and turning out the lamp. He nestled himself back under the covers and turned away from it, closing his eyes.

He knew those pictures weren’t of him. Wherever Dean got them out of his imagination or some porno movie, he was sure they weren’t really him. The more he convinced himself of this fact the better he felt, becoming more comfortable as he felt his body and mind being put at ease. He knew he wasn’t attractive. He didn't think he ever wanted to be.


	3. Apology Not Accepted

The next afternoon Dean stood outside Novak’s room, waiting for his the end of his class. He knew his own class was next, but he was determined to get into as soon as he could to apologize. Charlie had done a decent job of trying to take his mind off things by watching Lord of the Rings and offering to go on a pie run, but this was eating at him.

Every one of those drawing were expressing the attractiveness of his body. First of all, the more he thought about it the creepier that sounded. _Oh, I just spend my days drawing porn of you instead of listening to your lectures._ Yeah, that wasn’t good. Second, he was being pretty damn inconsiderate about the confession Castiel had given him; the guy was scarred for life and he had just kept on attacking him.

Dean lowered his head and grit his teeth, frowning heavily and tightening his grip on his things. He felt like shit for treating Cas like that. After he went on his rant about being worthless and having nothing to strive for, Cas had just lifted his head and asked to let him help. He tried to encourage him and debunked a lot of the things he was saying. Then he had to turn right around and make him so uncomfortable to the point of being angry. He was such a fucking idiot.

His head shot up as soon as the doors opened, students beginning to pour out in small sections. He moved to step inside, trying to dodge the on comers before one in particular stepped into his path.

“Where’s the fire Dean? You’re never early for your nap.”

Instantly his eyes narrowed and he glared down at her, “Get out of the way Meg, I don’t have time for this.”

She raised a brow and huffed a laugh, smirking back at him. “No time for _me?_ I’m insulted. Arguing like children is usually your favorite pastimes.”

He rolled his eyes and glanced over her head, spotting Castiel staring down at his desk. She quickly noticed the change and followed his gaze.

“So you’re the reason he’s been acting so strange today.” The affirmation rolled off Meg’s tongue like a purr, turning back to him easily.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like hell?” Dean straightened his features and returned his glare to her.

She hissed and sighed mockingly, “That really hurts, Dean. Not sure what you did, but I know I’m not the only one.”

For a brief moment he frowned, flicking his eyes back up to the man behind the desk before looking back to the demon in front of him. He glowered an instant longer before shoving past her shoulder, earning a scoff and a look of surprise as she called to him,

“What, are you planning on making it worse?”

He set his jaw and moved a hand behind his back, flipping her off and only gaining her a smug look before she left the room. 

As Dean approached the desk Novak’s head raised, his eyes widening slightly before his gaze returned to his work. The student frowned and continued forward, stepping directly in front of the desk, “Hey...”

Castiel didn’t want to look up. He knew it was rude to not, but suddenly he felt very tense. He didn’t want to go through what he had the day before. He had just started to accept the fact that the pictures weren’t of him; he didn’t need it to be argued again. But he took a silent breath and raised his head slightly. “Yes, Dean..?”

The Winchester stared at him a moment, frowning at uneasiness written over the other’s face. He shifted on his feet and wrung his hand over his things, swallowing before speaking, “I’m sorry.”

Castiel’s brows instantly furrowed, his apprehensiveness replaced with confusion as he tilted his head. “..What did you say?”

“I’m sorry. Look,” He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts and licking his lips. He sighed and lowered his head slightly, looking to the other man seriously and speaking genuinely, “Yesterday, I got way out of line. After I asked you to help... I get how weird it must have been for you to see what was in that notebook. And I know after you talked to me about what happened to you, I only made you more uncomfortable.”

“Dean...”

“Please let me finish,” He knew he needed to get through this. And the frown on Cas’ face wasn’t helping his own dejection, so he lowered his head. “I had no right to treat you the way I did, and I definitely had no right to be a smartass about it when you asked me to leave. I’m an asshole, and a creep, and I promise not to do it again. I’ll try my best to focus and understand your lessons without help. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I want you to know I’m sorry...”

Castiel listened carefully to what he believed to be the end of the Winchester’s self-tirade, keeping is frown which now contributed to the commiseration of the student before him. Clearly he was very confused; continuing to go on about about the praise he had mistakenly handed out the day before. Anything he commented on in a captivating way from a physical standpoint was meant only for the pictures he had drawn.

“Dean,” He ultimately sighed, moving a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and organizing his thoughts before speaking. “Those comments you made weren’t directed at me.”

Instantly the Winchester’s brows furrowed in confusion. He held back his confusion a moment, anticipating a further response, but upon receiving none he spoke, “Uh, what?”

Novak lowered his hand and straightened a bit in his seat, now looking more like dignified professor than a timid guy Dean could easily see him being day to day. But as he spoke his eyes remained down cast, appearing to look anywhere that wasn’t up at him.

“I’m not sure how, but your perception of my has somehow been drastically misguided. You may believe me to be who you drew on those pages, but I can guarantee you I’m not. Those men you sketched were very attractive, and hence my point is proven more so. I don’t harbor any vindictive feelings over your comments because I know they were misdirected; they weren’t meant for me.”

Dean merely gaped at him a moment, astounded by what he was hearing. _He thought his views on him were misdirected..?_ It’s a little hard to misdirect exactly whose ass looked surprising awesome in those work pants he always wore. And there was no way he was misguided on the features of his face. Sure, he hadn’t seen them up close before yesterday, but damn if those eyes weren’t the bluest blue he had ever seen.

He had to be joking. There was no way this guy could look in the mirror every morning and not find himself good looking. Despite the number of times he’s ever been hit on, wasn’t it just an instinct? Dean found himself waking up on good days, looking himself over in the mirror and giving himself a little wink just because he felt damn good about it. Was it really possibly this guy never did that _at all?_

“Cas...” Dean lowered his voice, trying to sound gentle and coax the man to look at him. It didn’t work.

“Mr. Winchester, I am needing to start my class. Could you please take your seat?”

He frowned and spoke more solemnly, _“Cas...”_

Slowly those blue eyes flicked up to him, frowning further at the intimidation there seemed to be behind them. Quickly the glanced away again, Castiel speaking lowly,

“Please sit down Dean...”

The Winchester held his frown and tightened his grip on his materials, staying still for a moment before turning and heading back to his desk. He laid out his things and instantly opened his new notebook, readying his pen and looking up to watch as Novak stood, adamant on actually taking some decent notes and storing it to memory.

Novak tried to teach his class the same way he would any other day; touch on the previous lesson briefly at the beginning of his lecture, give an overview of the newest section, then starting to cover the new material. He then issued an assignment to be due in the following week before taking his seat and allowing them to work freely. Glazing up from his desk he noticed the state of Dean Winchester, ducking over his note book and staring at it in some confusion. When he lifted his page to check another, the profession could clearly see it had been filled with what appeared to be notes and proper examples of his lesson. He then noticed the heavy book set aside on the corner of his desk, the same one he had taken from the top of his stack the day before.

He knew that one had arguably been the most difficult. Enochian was a very complex language, and in most cases even some who understood how it was written failed to pronounce it properly. Luckily, more of the book was written in Latin, but there were key elements occasionally exampled in the angelic language that would otherwise go amiss. He had been fortunate when he first started learning it. For some reason it felt oddly natural to him.

Nevertheless he knew there was no way Dean would be able to properly understand the book without his help. Any of the books would have required some personal tutoring, which at the time he hadn’t minded assisting in. Now, he wasn’t so certain. The most perspicacious route he knew would be to call off the assignment completely, but then Dean wouldn’t learn anything. He would still probably find someway to get distracted, and he would continue to fall behind the class. The most remunerative route would be to mentor him, that way he could be sure that Dean was walking away with something in the end. That was his entire point in teaching.

He cast his eyes back down to the work on his desk, trying to focus on it and making his way through the mess slowly, only speaking up at dismissal of the class, “Dean Winchester please remain seated.”

Dean stopped his moments and looked up, cursing before slumping back in his seat and lowering his head. He knew this was going to get bad. He kept his gaze down as the room cleared and looked at his stack of materials, rolling his pen between his fingers. Soon he heard familiar footfalls moving towards him, but he simply pretended not to.

When Novak reached the desk he stared down at the student, “May I see your notebook, Dean?”

The Winchester’s head shot up in alarm, eyes instantly going wide. “I-I didn’t draw anything in it, I swear.”

“I’m aware of that Dean.” The professor ducked his head slightly and extended his hand. “I would like to review the notes you’ve taken...”

“...O-oh.” A faint blush ran over the student’s face at his own panic and he straightened up in his chair, grabbing the notebook and flipping it open before handing it over easily.

Castiel’s eyes scanned over the page, studying over everything that was written. While there was more than enough written to completely cover both sides of the page, it was evident Dean had no idea what he had been writing. The notes were written nearly verbatim as he had given them and the examples were exactly the same.

He glanced at the student, “Is there any of this you truthfully understand?”

Dean bit his tongue, pursing his lips a bit and averting his gaze as he tried to come up with any excuse he could give. He then decided that wouldn’t help him in anyway so he merely sighed, “Not anything past the first couple sentences...”

Castiel nodded and kept the notebook in hand, continuing to read it over and moving to grab the chair from his desk. He spoke as he dragged it back towards the student, “Enochian is a language about putting things into context, it is supremely more difficult to learn it pieces. It’s like starting with a completed puzzle and working backwards to take it apart, then putting it back together again to see the whole picture.”

Dean watched the professor return with his chair, rolling it up beside his desk and sitting backwards in it once more. He listened carefully as the other man spoke but his features remained baffled. “Why?”

“Because it’s a very old language Dean. It’s the words of angels, warriors of God who were indiscernibly believe to know all languages without having ever needed to learn them.”

“No, why are you helping me?”

Novak looked up at him and attempted to derail the oncoming questions. “Because I’m your professor and you don’t understand the material.”

The Winchester gave a light scoff, shaking his head slightly in disbelief, “Yeah, but after what happened yesterday you shouldn’t being willing to. I sure as hell don’t deserve it.”

“But I told you I wanted to help you.” Castiel looked to him seriously, leaning in slightly as he did so. “And I realize you made a mistake. It happens to everyone. I’m still willing to help you understand this if you’re willing to learn.”

Dean frowned slightly at the term _‘mistake’_ but slowly nodded in anyway. “Alright...”

“Okay then...” The profession straightened himself up and laid the notebook out on the desk, going back over his earlier lesson. “Now because Enochian is a language that needs to be learned in reverse, there’s no use in trying to understand it forwards...”

Novak went back over the entirety of the notes the student had taken, using his pencil to circle the key elements and lightly strike out what was unneeded as he went. He rephrased his previous examples and pointed out how the connections were made. As he made his way through the text, he soon began to notice Dean was a lot more observant and intellectual than he had given him credit for. He was able to keep up quiet well once the pieces were explained to him one-to-one, and he seemed to have a different approach to learning the material than most students tended to; he would immediately jump to a conclusion, then evaluate the results. Sometimes the method resulted in almost instant understanding of a concept, other occasions he would work to figure out what went wrong then take another shot at it.

As the session progressed they both became more innately relaxed in each other’s presence. Unlike Dean’s earlier unassertive posture, he now sat with his head raised and arms crossed loosely over the desk, pointing out little areas of his notes and often glancing over at the professor for either affirmation or dismissal on a suggested connection. Meanwhile Castiel had shifted more comfortably into his chair, leaning forward a bit in a way that may have been a subtle invasion of the other’s personal space though neither seemed to mind. Dean noticed when the profession seemed to be focusing, his brows would twitch down and he would always tilt his head further to the left, where as Castiel noted when Dean was focused on solving a problem he would lean his head forward, eyes completely set on the task until he was finished.

By the time they were running on a little less than an hour, Dean scratched the last bit of information on the bottom of his page. He then laid his pen down with a sigh, sitting back in his chair and stretching with a groan. Castiel sat back and rolled his shoulders a bit, running a hand over his face before speaking,

“So, how much do you feel like you understand?”

The student relaxed back in his seat, looking to him easily, “I think I get most of it. Couple bits and pieces to fill in here and there, but at least I’ve got a handle on the basics.”

Novak nodded, looking back with a small smile. “You did a very good job today Dean.”

The Winchester smiled brightly at the comment, “Thanks Cas.” At the name both their brows raised a bit, Castiel breaking his gaze to stare at another wall before Dean sighed and continued, “Sorry. It’s Novak, I know that.”

“No.” Castiel opposed, ignoring the strange look he knew he was receiving from the other. “Cas is fine in this setting. No one’s ever called me by that before..”

Dean sat in silent surprise a moment before nodding and melding into a soft smile. “Alright then. Cas. Thanks for giving me a hand.”

The said man smiled a bit and turned his gaze back to the Winchester, nodding slightly. “You’re welcome Dean.”

Dean smiled wider at the response and watched him a moment, staring back into those incredible blue eyes. He lost his train of thought a briefly, getting it back on track with the noticed he didn’t mind it and coming up with an idea.

“Hey, uh... Cas?” At the realization he still had said man’s attention he continued, “Could I buy you dinner?”

Castiel’s smile faded almost instantly, immediately breaking the gaze after that. He opened his mouth to give a negative response before Dean’s eyes widened and he quickly continued,

“N-not like out on a date or anything. Nothing fancy, I mean, just as like a thanks for helping me out. Like at that diner just off campus or something, if you want. They’ve got some really awesome burgers over there.”

Castiel knew immediately where he was talking about, and he wasn’t lying about the burgers. However, that didn’t make him any more comfortable about the idea of going out to eat with anyone. Of course it wasn’t meant to be a date, but Dean’s offer to pay for him was a bit offsetting. For a moment he pondered simply giving a polite decline to the offer and going home, but his stomach nearly growled at him at the thought.

“I can pay for myself.” He assured, casting his gaze elsewhere.

Dean furrowed his brows a moment, not quiet sure how it would be much of a _‘Thank you’_ if Cas chose to pay for himself, but so long as it made him comfortable he would be content.

“Alright, whatever’s good for you.” He returned the reassurance, smiling and tilting his head a bit, discreetly trying to lean into his view.

A moment later Castiel’s eyes made their way back to Dean’s and he gave a small smile of appreciation, ducking his head slightly as he moved to stand and adjust his attire. “Thank you. Let me grab my things and I’ll go”

Dean nodded, grabbing his own materials and standing before retrieving his keys from his pocket. “Alright, well I guess I’ll meet you over there.”

Keeping his smile he started heading in the opposite direction of Cas as he returned his chair to his desk, turning to step backwards with a fleeting wave. “See you in a few.”

Castiel returned the gesture and allowed a small smile to grace his lips, watching him go before looking down at his desk and organizing the papers there. He had appreciated the fact Dean didn’t offer or insist on giving him a ride. He knew that was the way things like this typically went, being better for the environment and all, but he knew he wasn’t willing to do it. Setting everything into his bag, he fished his keys out of his pocket and headed out towards the parking lot.

He felt somewhat timorous about this plan, but at the same time he was flummoxidly okay with it. Dean seemed to understand he had made a mistake in his envisionments, and therefore stopped his apologies and any further comments he could have thought to make. As far as he was concerned, it shouldn’t become an issue again.

Meanwhile, Dean had already made it to his car and was on his way to the diner, but God help him he couldn’t get this little stupid smile off his face. From the moment he walked out of the lecture hall it had stuck, and damn him he was excited about getting to have dinner with Cas. 

During their study session, he had been such a great guy. Genuinely, he wasn’t even going to bother asking for help again, knowing it would turn more into a spite match where he’d be shot at with verbal venom. But Cas had so naturally approached him and began to work, getting him back on track like the day before hadn’t even mattered.

Dean didn’t immediately realize it, but his smile began to fade at that thought; the day before hadn’t mattered to him because he really didn’t believe those comments were directed towards him. Yeah, perhaps they weren’t the best way to woo someone from the get-go, but the still were _compliments_ if nothing else. Cas really thought it had all been up in his head, completely made up. He really doesn’t know how attractive he is.

 _I mean, how could he_ miss _all that?_ The man was gorgeous! Did he really not see how nice his own face was set up? Or any of his features that could make any model eat their heart out? He always dressed up tight, but all the button up shirts and dress pants suited him well, so did ties even on the days he chose to wear them. Occasionally he didn’t shave and had dark scuffle to match his messy hair, which made him appear kind of adorable in the idea of that being what he looked like in the mornings. And his _eyes_ , somewhere Dean knew he had lost all hope for recovery because those eyes were just so captivating. He was certain he could stare into them forever if he chose to.

This was another moment where Dean remembered he wasn’t an idiot; he knew he was starting to get a serious crush on Cas. Was that morally wrong? By some extensions, yes. Was it going to get him in a hell of a lot of trouble? Most likely. But did he give a damn? Not a single one. 

He knew this wasn’t a date he was going on, and he and Cas had just established it was a completely platonic situation, and he was okay with that for now. He understood that there was a pretty good chance Cas didn’t want to see anyone, and certainly not him. But he was willing to give it a shot at least, trying to take things slow, and who knew? Maybe one day he could go out on a nice little date with Cas. Do something basic level romantic like going to a movie, hanging out like they would any other time just with a little more teasing.

Dean smirked to himself, imagining how cute Cas would look ducking his head and flushing over the smallest of things. He then felt heat rising to his own face and he sighed heavily, realizing how touchy-feely that sounded and trying to refocus himself on driving. He definitely was getting a huge crush on his professor.

God help him.


	4. Are You Interested?

When Castiel parked outside the diner, he stepped out next to a beautiful 67’ Chevy impala. It caught his attention for a second; he was never very interested in cars, but he was impressed by how it appeared to be brand new. There wasn’t a dent or scratch anywhere he could see, and the sleekness of the paint made it appear as if it had just been washed. As he stepped around it he noticed the classic _Chevrolet_ signature framed into the grill. Instantly he thought of Dean.

_This couldn’t be his car, could it?_ Certainly a vehicle as old as this would need numerous trips to a mechanic and would require a small fortune to drive it regularly, a feat in no circumstance doable or smart for a college student. But then again, Dean didn’t strike him as the kind of person to do things the conventional way. There was a sense of uniqueness in the way he went about learning, so why wouldn’t it apply to other aspects of his life?

He pondered this a moment and glanced up at the diner, sure as the world Dean was sitting easily in an empty booth, looking over a menu. When a blonde waitress arrived he sat up a bit more, his face instantly lost from Castiel’s view. The smallest tinge of annoyance passed through the professor’s being and remembering his hunger he headed inside.

At the sound of the bell hanging in the doorway Dean’s head turned, glancing over at it and smiling unconsciously. It was elfinly reciprocated as Cas took his seat, politely requesting a water before gaining a menu in return. As the waitress moved away, he began to read over it and Dean spoke.

“So. How long have you been teaching?”

“This is my second year.” Castiel’s eyes didn’t leave the page.

Dean nodded a bit. “That’s impressive. You seem like you’ve been teaching a lot longer.”

“I was well trained for my field of study.”

Again he nodded, moving to cross his hands loosely on the table. “Where did you decide to go to school?”

“My father founded the Christian Hall University of Kansas.” Cas’ eyes quickly glanced over the top of the menu. “I hardly would have called it my decision.”

The Winchester frowned and lowered his head a bit, fixing his attention on his silverware. “That sucks... My dad was kind of the same way. He was never there there, but he wasn’t going to let me get out of going to college.”

Castiel sighed and rolled his shoulders, laying the bill of fare down and moving a hand to rub the base of his neck. “It’s fine. It wasn’t anything I was terribly against and I appreciated the major I was set for. Most people don’t have much interest in languages that were sparsely used thousands of years ago or not at all debatably.”

“But you enjoy it though, don’t you?” 

The professor’s eyes flickered to Dean’s, the student’s appearing sincerely interested as he continued, “I mean, you’re so good at teaching it. Even if you have kids that don’t want to listen all the time, it still fascinates you, doesn’t it?”

Cas thought a moment before nodding. “Yes... The languages I teach, Enochian, more specifically, came almost naturally to me.”

The student huffed out a laugh and smiled a bit, “Care to share some of that ability?”

Castiel smiled and reassured him, “You’re doing very well now Dean.”

Dean smiled wider but was interrupted by a tall glass of coke being set before him. He looked up to the waitress and placed his order, keeping it kind of small and fairly inexpensive. He raised a brow when the man before him seemed to do the opposite, ordering one of the larger burgers on the menu.

He waited for her to leave before commenting on it, “Not to sound nosy or anything, but can you get all that down?”

Castiel didn’t bother to hide the smirk that ran across this lips, peaking the Winchester’s interest further. He hummed to himself and picked up his glass, speaking before taking a drink,

“Well we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

Dean was taken off guard by the comment and huffed another laugh, shaking his head and reaching for his own drink. He tilted gently towards the other, “I can toast a guy like that.” He smiled and brought the glass to his lips, swallowing and lowering it with a sigh before looking back to the professor. “Anything else about you that could surprise me?”

“I highly doubt it.” Castiel replied with a scoff, settling his glass. “I’m not a very interesting person.”

The Winchester shrugged, “Everyone’s got something. I’m good with cars.”

The professor looked to him in interest, “Is that your old Chevrolet outside then?”

Dean furrowed his brows in surprise at the question, lost for an answer for a moment. “Uh, yeah... How did you know I drive an impala?”

“Oh. Um...” Castiel’s eyes left the others, glancing out the window. “Your notebook had the signature in it...”

The student's eyes widened and he instantly felt heat rising into his face, glancing aside and clearing his throat as he tried to shake it off. He then looked back to the professor, “Look, Cas... seriously, about that notebook-”

“I said it was fine Dean.” Castiel abruptly intervened. He didn’t want to go through this again. “I already told you there was nothing to forgive.”

“And I get that.” Dean raised his hand quickly, interrupting once more. “That’s why I want to forget it... I know I made a mistake. You told me I was wrong. I’m not gonna think like that anymore, I take it all back.”

The professor watched him a moment, surprised by the express transition in the Winchester’s earlier state. Slowly he furrowed his brows and tilted his head a bit, looking away, “Alright... I appreciate that.”

Dean nodded a bit, “Okay...” He paused a moment, checking to make sure everything was fine a moment. “Start fresh... Does that sound okay to you?”

“I can accept a clean slate.” 

That got a small smile out of the Winchester and he nodded again. “Alright. Clean slate. May I compliment you?”

Cas’ expression became instantly more confused as he turned back to the an before him, _“What?”_

Again Dean raised his hands gently, “If you don’t mind. Not gonna comment on anything I can’t see from here.”

Castiel sat puzzled a moment, unsure of how to respond. _What could he possibly want to compliment?_ He didn’t mind them terribly but he never paid any regard to them. He always thought they were just made out of politeness or need for conversation. Now Dean was respectfully asking him if he could.

“What for?”

The Winchester shrugged and rested forward on his arms, “For the hell of it. Because I’d like to compliment you.”

“You’d _like_ to compliment me?”

“Yes.” Castiel’s confusion remained apparent in his features, hurting Dean somewhat as he continued, “For example I like the way you dress.”

“I dress normally.”

“Yeah, but it looks good on you.” The Winchester sat back in his seat a bit, gesturing to himself, “I wear jeans and flannels. That’s just how I am. You wear dress clothes and ties and probably a suit jacket when it rains and I think it looks good on you.”

Cas flushed slightly at the comments and glanced away from him, keeping some of his expression and ducking his head to cover it. “It’s a trench coat, actually...”

Dean made a face as he thought about it, nodding and smiling as he watched. “I could see a trench coat... I also like your hair.”

“I don’t do anything to my hair.”

“So? It’s neat how you keep it simple. It a little messy but it’s uh,” Dean cleared his throat and lowered his head and voice a bit, keeping his eyes on the other man. “Kinda adorable.”

The comment was like a trigger to Cas, instigating him to turn his head back to the Winchester and narrow his eyes, “Are you flirting with me?”

Dean’s eyes widened a bit at the tone and he instantly went to sputter off an excuse before once again something was set before him. Blinking in surprise he glanced up at the waitress,

“Anything else I can do for you guys?” The tone in her voice even threw him, her gaze moving between them with the smallest hint of salacious intent on her lips.

He swallowed hard and collected himself before speaking, “Uh, no we’re good, thanks.” 

She hummed and glanced them each over, speaking before walking off, “Well just let me know if you need anything.” Dean’s eyes followed her a moment before moving back to Castiel’s discovering they hadn’t moved.

“I, uh...” Cas’ eyes narrowed further and his head tilted a bit. Dean frowned before sighing and lowering his head, “Yes...”

Castiel sat silent a moment, trying to figure things out. Was Dean really flirting with him..? _Why?_ Why would anyone have any interest in doing such a thing with him? Especially Dean Winchester? Dean seemed more like a womanizer by appearance, and even then he had stated before he slept around in high school. There certainly wouldn’t be any of that.

“Why?” He asked honestly.

Dean looked up in confusion. Did he seriously just ask why he was hitting on him? “Well, uh... because I’m interested in you...”

_"Why?"_

Dean's seemed to forget embarrassment as he scoffed. _He seriously doesn't get it._ How could a man this alluring not see in himself how attractive he was? He would almost think it would be a joke, but the undisputed bewilderment assured him of the other man's seriousness. If this was the result of the misfortune that had happened to him, Dean surely wanted to make whoever was responsible pay for it.

He straightened a bit before leaning forward, crossing his arms on the table. He set his jaw a moment, pushing his chagrin aside as he focused on speaking as truthfully as he could in a straightforward manner,

"Because I would like to start seeing you Cas. Honest to God. Starting over now with a blank slate. I'd like to continue complimenting you and being able to do things like this on occasion if you want. All cards on the table, you can call all the shots. Nothing you don't want and if you want to quit it, we're done. I won't ask questions and things go right back to me being just your student."

Castiel continued to stare at him for a moment, disbelieving of what he was hearing. Dean Winchester was legitimately flirting with him with apparently candid intentions. He was willing to give up any potential power typical relationships shared in exchange for the opportunity. Offering him the potential to do as he wished was odd in these circumstances, but in all fairness he knew it was probably being done due to his history. In which case, if he was being truthful with himself, that did sound relatively endearing.

However he still couldn't find himself quiet grasping the concept of why a guy like Dean would be interested in a guy like him. He really didn't have anything to offer anyone and he wasn't intrinsically special. Knowing this, he almost declined the suggestion but in looking back to the Winchester he noticed a certain softness behind his gaze, as if silently pleading him to give it a shot. He frowned,

"I'm not a very fascinating person Dean... I drive a regular car and have a small apartment to myself. I don't go out with the exception of when I am personally requested..."

The more he thought and talked about it, the less appealing he sounded. Surely Dean would desire to retract his request, causing Cas to feel slightly upset with himself for it.

"I live in a dorm." Dean perked up, shrugging and giving a small smile of reassurance. "And yeah, I'm good with cars, but Baby's expensive to keep up sometimes. Not to mention, I'm a pretty crappy student in my dead languages class."

Castiel tried to smother the laughter that erupted from his throat, inevitably causing him to to smile and shake his head. After a moment his eyes flickered to the beaming Winchester, "You're trying... You're going to do just fine Dean."

Dean smiled brightly in response and leaned closer on his arms once more, "So is that a yes then since I'm personally requesting it?"

Cas kept a modest smile on his face, gaining a feeling of self-assurance as he looked back at the other man. Dean was attractive in a number of ways, and he had always found something about his mannerisms interesting. Not to mention, the way he had gone about the whole ordeal including his fluster made him arguably charming to the professor. Perhaps he could give this a shot...

Seeing he still had the Winchester's full attention he smiled a bit, giving a slight nod, "Alright."

The corners of Dean's mouth turned up in a grin, surpising the professor with how euphoric the answer seemed to make him. "That's great Cas! I mean, uh.. thanks for the opportunity."

Castiel gave a small chuckle and glanced down to his neglected meal. Easily he moved to pick up the massive burger and settle it into his hands, "If you deserve a chance to get your grade up, I'd say you at least deserve the chance to take me out."

The Winchester chuckled a bit, about to respond as he picked up his own meal when a large portion of the other's burger seemed to disappear in front of him. With his momentary stunned state, Cas changed the topic before going in for another bite,

"Who is the mother?"

That caught Dean's attention in an instant, "Uh, what?"

Castiel finished swallowing before speaking once more, "You said having an infant was expensive to maintain. Pardon my intrusion, but you keep contact with it's mother?"

For a split second Dean was completely lost, racking his brain as to how that could have been said. Reviewing his earlier statements he promptly presented himself with a mental face palm and licked his lips before speaking, trying to find a way to phrase it,  
"Cas I don't have like a baby baby, it's just... That's what I call my car."

The professor raised a brow and huffed a small laugh, tilting his head, "You named your car _'Baby'?"_

Dean pouted slightly at the tone, sulking slightly in his response "Yes..."

"There's nothing wrong with that, I've just never heard of it before." Cas hummed, taking a drink from his glass. "I like it."

In a flash Dean's smile returned, diving back into his burger and attempting to make a comment before being scolded for having his mouth full. He continued a moment later and the rest of the dinner progressed as such, each of them making simple conversation and becoming more comfortable around each other. When they had each about finished their plates the blonde waitress returned,

"Is there anything else you guys need before your checks?" 

Dean looked her over as Cas declined, taking note the top of her shirt had been undone by a button. He simply cleared his throat before looking away, "Uh, yeah, two slices of pie to go, on my check please."

She scratched it onto the pad and did the quick calculations, tearing out both the recipets before reaching into a pocket on the side of her apron and laying all of the items down in a neat stack. 

"I'll get those right out to you." Again she left them with a grin and Dean scratched at the back of his neck, Castiel furrowing his brows slightly,

"She appeared to be flirting with you."

The Winchester sighed, "She was flirting with both of us." He slides the checks into the center of the table and sets the card aside before looking over his own. "She put her number on both our checks. She's seeing if she can get either one of us."

Castiel's brows furrowed as he grabbed his own check before moving to pull out his wallet, "That seems rather unfortunate for her considering you're interested in seeing me."

Dean raised a brow at that statement and paused his movements, thinking briefly as he looked the other man over, "Are you?"

The professor looked up at him, also stopping as he pulled out his cash, "Am I what?"  
"Interested." The thought had just appeared in Dean's head; Cas had said he deserved the chance to take him out, he never said he wanted to. "Because you know, even though I'd like to I don't want to drag you out anywhere you aren't interested in going..."

Castiel looked to him and thought a moment on the subject. Of course he was interested, wasn't he? Otherwise he naturally would have dismissed the offer. He had already dismissed the misunderstanding about his notebook, so the only real issue he saw was Dean seemed to be an inherently sexual person. But he must realize that any sort of that behavior of that essence would undoubtedly result in the termination of their relationship.

"Yes." He answered easily, setting down his cash. A small sweep of relief seeming to move over the Winchester as he did the same, "But Dean..."

He paused a moment, the hesitance he knew gained the other's attention as well as concern, "You realize we're never going to... do anything..."

Dean's eyes widened and he quickly raised his hands, "N-No! Not at all. I mean, yeah I get that. It's not necessary. Besides I haven't done any of that in awhile." 

He sighed, collecting himself a bit from his quick ramble and looking back to the confused looking man, "I know you're not comfortable with that, and I'm not gonna ask you for it."

Slowly Castiel nodded, "I appreciate that."

Dean smiled in return and nearly spoke again before a bag came down in front of his face, disrupting him for the third time and causing him to look up in annoyance. 

"Thanks." The word was sharp out of his mouth, but she didn't seem to notice.

"No problem at all. Nothing at all you guys need before you hit the road?"

"No thanks." The Winchester moved to stand, grabbing his bags and stepping out of the booth. "We'll be leaving now." 

Castiel took this as his cue to stand and follow, pushing his wallet back into his pocket and heading for the door. The waitress was left in an insulted huff as she began to clear the table, in hopes at the very least a good tip.

"Sorry about that," Dean apologized as he moved around his car and settled the bag on the roof. He reached in and carefully retrieved a slice of the pie. "That waitress was annoying the hell out of me."

"Yes, she appeared to be very interposive..." Cas stood beside his car, unsure of what to do. He knew he should probably leave, but it didn't feel appropriate considering Dean had yet to.

Instead of climbing into his car as expected, the Winchester turned to him smiling and extending one of the small boxes. "Here. Since I couldn't buy you dinner, I figured desert would be a nice thanks."

The Novak's brows furrowed as he reached a hand to take it in wonderment, glancing back up Dean and ducking his head slightly. "Thank you.."

"No problem." Dean's smile grew as he climbed into his car, starting it and about to move before stepping back out and looking over at the professor. "Can I get your phone number?"

Cas was still in such awe of the gesture of receiving pie he stuttered his answer, keeping his eyes off the other man as he recited the number from memory.

"Got it." The Winchester grinned and punched it into his phone, looking back to the professor before climbing into his car. "Good night Cas."

Castiel remained still and watched him as he drove off, keeping the box in his hands. When the tail lights of the impala started to fade he let a smile cross over his face. He felt absolutely ebullient at the turn of events that had happened. There was a skittishness to his feelings, but it made him happy to notice how excited he was because of it.

Knowing his smile wouldn't leave him anytime soon, he climbed into his car and started it up, keeping Dean's parting gift neatly in his lap. As he headed home the thought he could hardly believe wouldn't leave his head- _He was going out with Dean Winchester._


End file.
